living hell
by ryomarufuji
Summary: Fubuki tries following Ryo one night into the underground duel arena. Ryo/Fubuki, noncon.


**A/N**: As a contrast to my cutesy Idolshipping fic, obviously, I needed to write non-con of the two. Welp, hope I did well.

Please enjoy!

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><p>It was odd.<p>

In no way was there ever much hostility between Ryo and Fubuki, not even as Hell Kaiser. Even then, they'd joked around, at least on Ryo's part, that they were friends still. And perhaps a part of that was actually true. Still, he'd had a reputation to keep up, and when Fubuki had followed him down into his domain, the underground duel arena, he lost it.

Did this count as hostility?

"Ryo..." he choked out, Ryo's thumb braced up against his throat and fingernails digging into his neck, his body pressing him up against the walls, in an unnoticed corner as a duel took place. Ryo ran his free hand down the boy's arm and firmly grasped his wrist. "...let me go. I needed to see what was...making you like this."

So that was it. Such a stupid reason. Did he not know that he would get pulled into Hell, just like Ryo did? How naive. Clearly, the boy'd never known of this world before, and Ryo was very willing to teach him. An explosion. The duel was far from over, but he heard screaming, and Fubuki struggled the hardest he'd ever seen him fight to get a look. No, no, Ryo couldn't let that happen. Couldn't let Fubuki know what had been going on in the underground duel arena.

It wasn't like he needed to be careful. Not that he cared, either way. He promptly slammed Fubuki face-first into the wall, flipping him over completely, earning a groan of pain from the back of his throat. Soon enough, strange liquid was dripping onto Ryo's fingers, revealing that he'd hit Fubuki hard enough to make his nose bleed.

This wasn't what he'd planned. He wasn't a sadist. He only...wanted to win, and would stop at nothing to do so. But they weren't dueling, were they? Still, Fubuki would surely tell everyone about the arena, so he was still interfering with his winning streak. So where was the respect? Where did it lie? Certainly kicked straight out of the Hell Kaiser's brain, so he'd pushed himself onto Fubuki, further creating uncomfortable friction on both ends. Uncomfortable for different reasons.

Perhaps it wasn't a good thing that there was a sort of attraction there, now that he'd thought about it.

Fubuki was never one to cry, though he noticeably shed a tear when his back was bent and his bloodied and bruised face was pressed up against the wall, still struggling to get at the very least a glimpse of where and what the terrible, horrible sounds were coming from. But Ryo couldn't let him do that. Carefully, he grabbed his hair and turned the boy's head, just enough to see him, but not enough to hurt him anymore than he already had. His hand lifted, making Fubuki flinch slightly, but relax when it rested on his face, brushing away signs of pain. Oddly enough, it almost seemed like the pain itself whipped away with the physical signs, softening Fubuki's face. It was then that Ryo smirked, perfectly aware of the effect that he'd been having on the boy.

"Your face is much more beautiful this way," he said, tightening a grip on Fubuki's chin.

Silence between the two. Perhaps that was a dumb thing to say; it might have been. Ryo's face uncharacteristically flushed for a strange second before reverting back to a pale smirk. And Fubuki noticed. How could he not? His eyebrows raised, then furrowed, then he let out a confused smile. Still slightly beaten, Fubuki repressed a laugh of realization and leaned over. Ryo's lips on his were shaky and unsure. When they pulled back not a second later, neither was smiling.

Aggravated with his sudden revocation of power, Ryo once again smashed Fubuki into the wall, covering his now unclean face with more blood and flowing tears. He'd known he'd done something wrong. That much was obvious. But all that Ryo needed to do was punish him.

Hell, no. But his body betrayed his thoughts in a fit of lust. It always does.

Roughly, Fubuki's jacket was being torn off, making him stop and ignore the pain in his face, particularly his nose, and yelp in surprise and automatic understanding of the upcoming situation. Well, not if he could stop it. But it didn't seem like he could, at least, not as he was now. Underground, it wasn't exactly the coldest, and his jacket did nothing to help that, nor did the overwhelming heat of the two of their bodies pressed up against each other. Furthermore, blood had already started rushing to his face from Ryo's intentions, and he looked straight ahead, feeling himself get dizzy and weak.

Ryo wasn't doing much better in his head. Tearing the jacket off and throwing it aside, he'd attracted a couple of viewers who had evidently lost interest in the seemingly boring duel and began observing the two, probably approving of Hell Kaiser Ryo finally taking a kid for himself, in public, no less. Well, if this could count as public.

Give them a show. Well, why not?

After treating his shirt the same, Fubuki struggled fiercely against the grips of Ryo, but didn't say a word. He'd known these places. Instead of helping him, he'd just attract more attention to them. Attention he didn't want. They would only sit and watch, watch him be humiliated and embarrassed, so he kept quiet. It wasn't like Ryo was actually going to...and even then, hadn't he instigated it with the kiss? But the thought quickly left his head. Obviously, Hell Kaiser Ryo took over and this was in no way Fubuki's fault.

Then, he'd felt his pants being ripped down, leaving his knees weak. Quickly, he realized where this was going and the blood drained from his face, a cold rush suddenly dashing up his back. This was going to be beyond uncomfortable, nothing like how he'd expected.

Then, his fingers and toes curled and his knuckles turned white, literally jumping when he felt his friend fondle him, swiftly entering him easily, sweat-covered and wet. Blood rushed back to his face, leaning forward to give himself more comfort as Ryo explored his walls further. He withdrew, but threw off his belt before Fubuki could feel any sort of relief and positioned himself carefully. Slowly, he entered Fubuki and let out a long and heavy breath that he wasn't aware he'd been holding, feeling the boy tense.

Already, he'd been hard and lust-driven, so the process should have been quick. His thrusts became more straight, with more precision, and he'd pumped and pounded into Fubuki, unable to withhold the sounds of pleasure that he'd been making. Fubuki bit his lip, hard enough to make it bleed and cover his face with more red, his eyes dilating to saucers. Eventually, he groaned loudly, imagining the eyes he'd just attracted and shutting his.

Ryo noticed, though, and realized just what this would do to his reputation as a "big-bad" in the arena, upon realizing, pumping into Fubuki faster. Unintentionally, Fubuki let out multiple sounds of confused pleasure and pain, feeling Ryo hit his prostate and dick bobbing up against the cold walls. Never had he been so perplexed, so broken and lost, and all he could do when Ryo came into him was sift to the floor in defeat.


End file.
